To the Memory of Mrs M. Peachley

Come hither You who the fair Sex reproach,
And basely rail at what you can't debauch,
That in loose Satyr tell us of their Crimes,
And say they are the grievance of the Times;
Come hither all, while, in sad Funeral Verse,
Peachley's Immortal Vertues I reherse,
That you may see how very much you err,
Repent, and learn how to be good by her.
Ev'n in her Youth her early worth did show
To what a vast proportion it wou'd grow,
When Faith had taught her all she was to know;
On whose strong Wings she oft to Heav'n wou'd flee,
And by it find what can, what cannot be,
Better than all their vain Philosophy.
Charming her Form, and matchless was her Mind,
At least 'twas something above Womankind.
Trace her through all the Series of her Life,
You'l find her free from Envy, Hate and Strife;
A Duteous Child, and then a Vertuous Wife:
A careful Mother next, and if we find
Any regret for dying touch'd her mind,
It was to leave her Angel-Brood behind;
And not the love of Life: O hapless young!
The World's a Maze where you will sure go wrong,
Without the Clue of her Instructive tongue;
She wou'd have taught you when with cares perplext,
And lost in this World, how to find the next:
O how shall we enough her Worth commend!
So good a Christian, and so true a Friend,
She'd take Offence, but never wou'd offend!
Well read in History, in Religion more;
And had a Heart which ne'r forgot the Poor.
Mourn, mourn, ye Graces, mourn your Darling's fall,
The most exalted wonder of you all!
To whose kind Breast can you for refuge run,
Now she that gave you life is dead and gone?
A great Example stands, to let us see
"No pitch of Vertue from the Grave is free.